


Final Masquerade

by lpfan503



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Soulmarks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lpfan503/pseuds/lpfan503
Summary: The world is changing around Mike Shinoda, and he can't get past the feeling he's been left behind. Despite everything, he still carefully tends the spark of hope that someday, he'll meet his match. Bennoda. AU.
Relationships: Chester Bennington/Mike Shinoda
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It's been a while since I had any sort of inspiration or motivation to write. 2020 hasn't been a great year for me, and but here I am with something new! I haven't written a drop of this, so I can't promise updates will be regular. Let me know if it interests you at all.

**Sometime at the end of 2010...**

It had all happened so slowly, an effect that rippled across the globe as time drew nearer to the year 2010, as the clock ticked seconds away relentlessly and the world grew to understand that human relationships would never be the same. 

All Mike Shinoda knew, as he looked out the wall of eleventh story windows at the rainclouds, was that the world had changed around him, and he didn’t know who he was anymore. Everyone was focused on the newest, most radical change to humankind. It was hard for him to understand still, hard to wrap his head and his shattered heart around the reasons why Anna had left. None of it seemed real anymore, even as the baby cried from the other room. His baby.

When _soulmarks_ started to appear they were scorned, frowned upon by those reporting the phenomenon as a cultish behavior. It was all passed off as a mentally compromised selection of people desperate for connection and love, who would go so far as to tattoo the initials of their soulmate on the tender skin of their inner wrist. One by one, as the population fell victim to the mysterious marks that appeared overnight, it became harder and harder to deny what was happening. It was like a virus, spreading uninhibited. 

Marriages were torn apart as lovers left to find their true mate. For some it was an excuse, the promise of freedom from a state of being that never fulfilled their needs. For others, there was only despair as they were left behind, holding the pieces of what had been their life as their partner sought out the elusive owner of their matching soulmark.

Seven and a half billion people on the Earth, and there were countless with the same three initials - only seventeen thousand, five hundred and seventy-six “unique” combinations created. 

_How?_ those left behind cried in agony, _how will you know when you find the one? You could be leaving me to find a matching soul mark, only to find the wrong one. How will you know?_ There were mothers begging on their knees, husbands comforting screaming children, sons and daughters crying out for parents who were never coming home.

 _They say your match glitters gold,_ was the hushed response, a hope in the eyes of those seeking their new truth. _They say even when there is no sun, your matching soulmark burns with the fire of a thousand suns, didn’t you hear?_

Scientists were just starting to realize that babies born after the turn would be born into a world where soulmarks had always existed, that their delicate newborn skin would already be imprinted with their future… three small initials that would grow with them, the subject of childhood daydreams of love.

The baby crying in the next room already had his.

Mike looked at his wrist again and sighed. 

It was a time of cataclysm, a time of upheaval; a destruction of love and marriage as Mike knew it. The research he’d turned up when he was still trying to beg Anna home was still new, tender ideas of what might be happening and darker ideologies mixed in sometimes, too. What sometimes started as a dark look on the state of human relationships with those they didn’t know or understand turned sharply into a dissertation on the state of the human heart - or rather, fate. Love was no longer something people cultivated, but a state of being predestined from birth, from a higher power that knew no race or religion, had no deity to worship. 

As far as Mike was aware, there was never a prophecy about soulmarks. He’d looked - spent hours researching it after the turn, trying to find any clue that they all could have seen it coming, that there could have been some way to prepare. That they could have avoided tearing apart families, children, hearts, somehow. He read articles until he fell asleep at the computer, only to be awakened again when the baby cried. The baby was always crying. Mike could only muster enough energy to think maybe he missed his mother, and to hate Anna again for leaving them. 

He traced the unmarked skin on his wrist with a finger one more time before he turned away from the windows, his footsteps heavy on the way to the baby’s room. 

****  
TBC


	2. Tearing Me Apart

Mike heard the click of the deadbolt in the lock, but he couldn’t make himself get off the couch. The baby was finally asleep, and all he wanted was a few minutes to close his eyes. As selfish as it was, he knew everything would be put away without his help, anyway. This had been going on for months now, ever since Anna left. Once every few days, his brother came to make sure he had formula for the baby, and food in the refrigerator. Mike knew in the first days of being alone with the baby, the visits were less about food and more about making sure he hadn’t followed through on his threat to jump off the balcony with the baby in his arms. 

_I didn’t really mean that,_ he thought tiredly as Jason Shinoda came through the door of the apartment, the rolling crate he used to carry groceries in tow. “He’s sleeping,” Mike said in a hushed voice, not bothering to open his eyes.

Jason only nodded, heading straight into the kitchen to unload. He took a quick glance around and it settled his nerves a little. For a while after Anna left Mike, he would walk into a scene that screamed _help me._ Bottles scattered about, powdered formula spilled on the counter. Mike in sweatpants and ratty t-shirts that had seen better days. Oily hair that hadn’t been washed in days, an out of control beard that made Mike look much older than his thirty-three years. 

Today the kitchen was mostly clean, and Jason put away the pre-made dinners his wife had sent, along with the fruit and coffee Mike seemed to live on. He looked out over the bar, where Mike was laying on the couch. His clothes looked clean, and it felt like he was finally coming out of the fog that had been settled on his shoulders for months. It made Jason feel hopeful in a way he hadn’t been since before the turn.

He wiped off the counters and rinsed out a few bottles and nipples that were there and tossed everything into the microwave sterilizer before he headed into the living room. “Jack sends her love,” Jason offered quietly as he sat down on the wooden coffee table facing Mike. “She wanted to come today, but work was busy.”

Mike scoffed at the word _love_ , but only in his head. “Tell her thanks for the food. You know I can just order food.”

“Sure,” Jason replied easily. “But you won’t. It took all of a few days for me to figure that much out.” He looked around the living room and then out the windows. He wanted to ask if Mike had heard anything at all from Anna, but bringing up his older brother’s missing wife never seemed to go the way he thought it would. Instead he decided to ask about the baby. “How’s Otis been this week?”

Mike shrugged. “Cranky. He’s finally asleep right now, and I thought maybe I’d get some rest, too.” He cracked an eye and looked at Jason. “I see that’s not going to happen.” 

“You’re always asleep.” 

It was a casual mention, but Jason and Mike both knew what he meant. That Mike spent too many hours on the couch, in the bed, neglecting himself and his son. _I’m just exhausted all the time. I know Jay’s got three kids, but he’s got help. I’m just me._ Before the pity party could creep in and take hold again, Mike sat up. “That’s not true. I took Otis to the park yesterday.”

The excitement on Jason’s face was almost too much. “Mike, that’s great!” he exclaimed before he remembered to keep his voice down. “I’m sure it was great for you both, to get out of this apartment.”

“Sure.” Mike shrugged his shoulders. “O doesn’t know anything different, but all I can see every time I leave is all these happy couples. I used to have that, you know. Now I don’t even know where my wife is. She could be on the other side of the world, looking for her matching _soulmark._ ” 

The last word came out in a bitter tone, and Jason unconsciously pulled the cuff of his sleeve over his mark. He knew he’d been lucky in the turn. His soulmark and his wife’s soulmark matched. They were less than one percent of all couples who had been together at the start of the turn, and their family hadn’t been torn apart in the discovery. “Have you decided what you want to do?” he decided to ask. He and Jack had talked about it many times, how Mike was still holding on to Anna, despite her soulmark not being _MKS_. A divorce needed to be in the works, but Anna had disappeared and Mike hadn’t taken any steps toward it that Jason was aware of.

Mike looked down at his wrist. It was still as bare as it had been his whole life, and he blew out a breath. “I keep thinking, maybe mine will show up, and it will change something.”

Jason scratched the side of his head. He still wasn’t used to the feeling of the new haircut, all of his hair cropped close on top and shaved on the sides. It was even stranger when he looked in the mirror. He shook that thought away and pulled his phone from his pocket. “There’s a new study out about that, actually. About Blanks.” He tapped on the screen and held it out for Mike to see. He knew all about Mike’s penchant for research on the marks. “Want me to send it to you?”

That was all it took for Mike to flop back down on the couch, one arm flung over his eyes. He didn’t want to be a Blank. It didn’t feel like anything could be worse than that, but then… 2010 hadn’t been his year. Not at all. “Sure. I’ll read it later. I’m sure it doesn’t say anything new.”

“Actually. This one is pretty interesting. It’s a Harvard Medical research paper. They think that Blanks might be open to more than one match.”

“Well that’s stupid,” Mike huffed. “That defeats the whole point of these fucking marks. If you can have more than one match, that means you don’t really have a soulmate. Which I guess is the same thing as being without a mark.” He didn’t move his arm, just in case the tears that were threatening to form decided to go ahead and break free. “I can’t believe Otis has a mark and I don’t.”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that. He remembered when the baby was born, and the tiny initials on the inside of his wrist. He remembered Anna’s mark showing up not two weeks later, and the way she abandoned Mike with a newborn shortly thereafter. Otis was almost six months old now, and whenever Jason held him, he examined the soulmark on his wrist, wondering if his match had even been born yet. It all seemed unfair, that it was out of their control, and he knew that nobody knew that better than Mike.

“At least Otis won’t have to go through what you’ve been through,” Jason said carefully. “If you can look at it that way, maybe it won’t sting as much. He’ll grow up and he’ll be looking for his match, not falling in love with someone who will turn around and leave. This whole thing has been a mess for society.” 

_Not for you,_ Mike thought bitterly. “All those years down the drain,” Mike said instead, turning his thoughts away from his jealousy toward his heartbreak. “We finally get pregnant and then she leaves him behind. What kind of mother does that? Ten years, Jay. Well, thirteen, really, if you count dating. Thirteen years of my life, and she walked away because of these fucking marks.” He knew Jason had heard it all before, and it didn’t surprise Mike to be met with silence. 

He finally lowered his arm and stared at his brother. “If O doesn’t have to go through this, then fine. It’s great that he has his mark. But who’s to say something else won’t come along? Or that all of this is wrong? It’s all just speculation, anyway. Where’s the science behind all of it?”

As if on cue, the baby started to cry. Mike rubbed his eyes with his fist. So much for that nap he’d wanted.

“Sometimes you just have to go on faith.” Jason looked toward the hallway and stood up. “I’ll go get him. Uncle Jay to the rescue.” 

He was gone before Mike could drag himself into a sitting position. It was all so hard. He knew he needed to file the paperwork sitting on his desk, the paperwork that would legally end his marriage, but it was so final. It would be admitting that Otis would never have his mother. _After all of that heartache, miscarriage after miscarriage, and she leaves him._ He cocked his head to the side as the sound of the baby’s cries subsided. It was one more thing for Mike to be jealous of when it came to Jason. Otis never stopped crying that fast for him.

“Say hi to Daddy!” Jason cooed, coming back from the bedroom with a smiling Otis in his arms. “God, Mike, he’s getting big. You’re just a big boy, now, aren’t you, Otis?” Jason bounced the baby on his hip a few times and headed for the kitchen. “You know, Jack says it’s time to get him started on solids. I brought a few jars over for you to try.” 

“Like… baby food?” Mike asked, watching Jason move around his kitchen with ease, preparing a bottle with one hand and still bouncing the baby on his opposite hip. Any time he’d ever tried to do that, it ended in a mess all over him, the baby, and the kitchen... and more often than not, both of them on the floor crying. Every little thing about keeping another human alive just felt like too much for Mike, even though his head told him that he loved his son. He’d wanted Otis, and he’d always thought when a baby was reality, he’d know what to do. It just hadn’t happened that way, though, and most of the time he felt woefully inadequate. Most of the time it was easier to shut down than to ask for help. Mike didn’t know how he and Otis would have survived the last six months without Jason.

“Yeah, baby food.” Jason shifted the baby into the crook of his arm and popped the bottle into his mouth, where Otis clutched on with both hands and sucked greedily. “He might sleep more for you if he’s not so hungry.” He wanted to mention that Mike should eat more, too, but he knew where that would get him. A one way ticket out the front door until Jack sent him back in a few days with more food. “Joshua loved bananas, but the girls loved applesauce. You just stir a little of this oatmeal into it, and I guarantee, he’ll eat it right up.” Jason nodded toward the box on the counter. “The instructions are on the side.”

It all sounded like a lot, and Mike felt the sense of being overwhelmed crawling like ants under his skin. “I’ll check it out,” he said from the couch, where he was still sitting. Even though he knew he _should_ get up and take his son from Jason, he couldn’t make his legs work. Besides, it felt nice to let someone else take care of them for a change. All Mike wanted some days was for someone else - anyone else - to come to the rescue. 

But so far, he was alone. The days passed and he couldn’t help but check his wrist each morning. There was a small flame that still burned inside him, a hope that he tended carefully and secretly, that a soulmark would appear, and with it, his problems would disappear. His loneliness, his despair over being left behind, none of it would matter when his mark showed up because then he’d have a place to start. He’d have something to hang his hope on that actually meant something. 

Jason nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure Mike was listening, but he’d leave the applesauce and the oatmeal on the counter. “I’ll send you that article, too. And another thing I found browsing around, there’s an app. For finding matches.”

Mike looked over again. “Yeah? Do they have Blanks on there, too?” He saw Jason’s eyes move away from him, and he almost felt bad for lashing out. His brother was only trying to help, and Mike knew it. He didn’t know why he was so negative, even when he was trying not to be.

“I just thought you’d like to be in the know before your mark shows up,” Jason said evenly over Otis’ head. “It _will_ show up, Mike. One morning you’ll wake up, and it will be there. I know it’s hard to imagine, but this article… they think Blanks will end up being less than one percent of the population.”

With a sigh, Mike rubbed his eyes again. “Yeah, and what do they know? You and Jack are supposed to be one percent of the population, too. Wouldn’t it just be fitting if I was the other end of the spectrum? The one percent who has no match?” Just hearing himself say it out loud pinched at his heart. He still wanted to believe his soulmate was out there. Someone who would be the partner he needed, and the mother Otis needed. 

Jason looked down at Otis. Mike’s dark rambles were less troubling than they were right after Anna left, but they could still turn to sadness and desperation quickly. He didn’t know what to say to make things better, and he knew Mike wasn’t in the mindset to hear it anyway. “Why don’t you stay here and get caught up on work, and I’ll take Otis over to mom and dad’s for the afternoon,” he decided. “Get a shower, take care of yourself for a bit, and you guys can try out the applesauce tonight.” 

It was a gift, and Mike knew it. He _did_ have work that needed to be done, and he thought he’d showered yesterday, but he wasn’t sure. Time ran together in an endless blur of sleep deprivation and feedings. “Sure,” he agreed quietly. He wanted to care that his son would be away for the afternoon, but all he felt was relief, and that realization was followed quickly by guilt. He was the worst father in history. 

“Shower, Mike,” Jason reminded him after a few minutes. He’d watched Mike zone out again, and it hit him that maybe the sense of relief he’d felt when he walked in was misplaced. Maybe Mike wasn’t getting better. “When he’s finished eating we’ll duck out, and I’ll text you when we’re on our way back. Go on, I’ll lock up.” 

Jason waited for Mike to nod, and disappear down the short hallway toward the bedroom before he walked over to the dining table. The baby’s bag was right where he’d left it, and Jason cocked his head, wondering if Mike had lied about going to the park yesterday. Then again, Mike had been surprised when Jason explained the need for the bag in the first place. Jason had been the one who stocked it with onesies and tiny socks, diapers and wipes, hoping Mike would leave the apartment. It made him feel better to decide that Mike had taken Otis out and simply forgotten the bag, so Jason made his mind up not to ask his brother if he’d been telling the truth. 

****

Mike felt slightly more human after his shower. He’d wanted to lay down and sleep, but he made himself go through the motions of being _okay_ , trimming his beard and brushing his teeth, putting on deodorant and clean clothes. He pulled the blankets up neatly on the bed, but couldn’t bring himself to strip off the sheets and wash them. _That_ was definitely too much. 

He’d sat down at his computer and done the minimum amount of work necessary to keep his job, finalizing orders and answering emails. It was mindless, unfulfilling work, and focusing on it was next to impossible. Only the thought of having to tell his parents he’d lost his job kept Mike from giving up completely. He didn’t think he could bear the shame of having to ask his parents for money, so somehow he’d managed to keep his work from home job throughout the last half year. 

The apartment had been quiet, but in a different way than if there were a sleeping baby in it. It felt less fragile, and Mike had even bothered to eat a banana before he sat down on the couch again with the afgahn Anna had knitted him so many years ago. He tucked it around his legs and leaned his head back, pulling open the article on his phone that Jason had sent. He’d only made it halfway through before he closed it, frustrated, and fell asleep. 

The dreams that invaded were murky, grayscale versions of a dystopian existence he was exiled to as a Blank. There was no room in the sun for him, no soulmate, no savior waiting. He didn’t even rest as his unconscious brain battled his broken heart, and before long, Jason was back with Otis and a tin of cookies from his mother.

Mike looked at the cookies on the table where Jason had left them, and down at the tiny plastic bowl in front of him. He’d followed the directions on the oatmeal box, mixing formula and cereal before spooning in some applesauce. It didn’t look appealing, but Mike didn’t know anything about babies. He could only hope that Jason was right, and having something other than formula would help Otis sleep more. Otis was sitting in the gray high chair that had green dinosaurs printed all over it, looking at Mike with wide, expectant brown eyes, and Mike sighed. 

“Okay, O. Let’s see if I can get this right.” Mike picked up the bowl and small spoon and scooped up a runny bite of appley oatmeal, holding it out to his son. 

Otis looked at him.

Mike cocked his head to the side. “Come on, O, it’s yummy.” He touched the spoon to Otis’s bottom lip, but the baby just looked at him. Mike sighed again and looked at the instructions on the box, but it didn’t say anything about how to actually get the baby to eat it. Otis started to whine, and Mike scratched his beard. Maybe he should show Otis what to do.

He took the spoon and stuck it in his mouth, ready to tell Otis how yummy it was, and how he should eat some. Instead of “yum!” Mike made a face and coughed. “Oh, god, that’s nasty!” he cried, shuddering at the gritty taste of formula and applesauce. He was about to get up and get a glass of water, but Otis’s attention was on him, and then the baby giggled. 

It caught Mike’s attention, and suddenly he didn’t taste the cereal anymore. “Oh, that’s funny?” He asked the baby, instantly putting the spoon back in his mouth and making the same face. “Yuck!” 

Otis giggled some more, and Mike felt his heart lift. It was rare that they laughed together, and he wanted more, but the logic in his head told him he’d never get his son to eat anything if he continued to say it was gross in order to get a laugh. He reached out and ran his hand over the soft black hair on Otis’s head. “Let’s try this again, O. It’s your turn.” He scooped up a bite of cereal and held it out, and this time Otis opened his mouth. Mike managed to get a taste between his lips, and then it was Mike’s turn to laugh at the expression on his son’s face. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Weird texture, isn’t it?” He watched as Otis moved his tongue around in his mouth and wrinkled his nose. 

Mike had no idea how long it would take, or how messy they would both get, and when the cereal was gone, Otis still wanted a bottle. But it was good time spent together, without any crying from either of them, and Mike was grateful for that. He used a warm washcloth to wipe the cereal off Otis’s face and chubby hands, and he was surprised to see his son falling asleep with the bottle in his mouth. _Jack was right. His little tummy was just hungry._ He felt the guilt creeping back in as he looked down at the baby in his arms, the soft pale skin of Otis’s cheeks, and his black eyelashes resting closed. 

Mike carried him into the small second bedroom and switched on the dinosaur nightlight on the changing table. Under the soft glow he snuggled Otis into his crib, and stood there for a moment watching as he stretched his little arm over his head, palm up. Mike’s eyes went right to the three tiny initials on his son’s wrist. _Jay’s right. You’re lucky, O. I don’t ever want you to feel what I feel right now. I don’t want the person you love to leave you. Whoever she is, at least you’ll know who you’re looking for. I have no idea, and it sucks._ He stood there a few more minutes, praying his son would sleep a little longer tonight, before he turned away, ready to go collapse in his bed. Maybe he’d wake up tomorrow and his soulmark would be on his wrist, and he could start looking. 

****  
TBC


	3. A Moment Washed Away

Mike’s gaze shifted from the computer screen to the window, looking outside at the gray clouds hanging so low. It was an unusual day in Los Angeles, and he couldn’t help but feel the grayness. _Can you feel a color?_ There was a point in his life that Mike would have scoffed at the idea of feeling a color, but he totally believed in it now. So many of his beliefs had changed as the world around him underwent a drastic revolution. He felt that grayness in his bones. He knew the world wasn’t _actually_ gray, but that didn’t change the way he viewed it. 

His universe - everything in it - turned gray six months ago on that February day when Mike Shinoda lost everything, and recoloring seemed to be an ongoing process. Everything around him seemed to move in and out of color, depending on his mood. Some days, like today, it was all gray. He wondered if it would ever color again, or if he would always feel shades of gray inside. _Will color ever come back? Probably not in the same way it was before, vibrant and shimmering all around._

It was hard to concentrate with Otis sitting in his walker, scooting around all over the apartment. Mike sat back from the billing he’d been half-heartedly working on, and watched his son. The white walker was dotted with primary colors, different shapes and textures for the baby to pull, push, feel, and explore while he happily moved his bare feet along the floors. He wondered how Otis saw colors. He wondered if his own mood affected his son. 

Thinking about that for too long made Mike’s heart hurt. Of course his mood affected the baby. Maybe not directly, but indeed it did indirectly, and he hated to think about the days he couldn’t seem to do more than move from the bed to the couch. Too many of their days together had been colored gray with heartache. _He’s six months old. February feels like it was forever ago._

There had been something ominous about that February day from the moment he opened his eyes. Even though it never rained in Los Angeles, the morning that Anna told him she’d gotten her soulmark he’d woken to gray skies and rain. 

How poetic. Looking back, it felt so fitting.

He remembered being disoriented when he woke up and heard the rain tapping on the glass window of the eleventh floor apartment they shared. The sound was so foreign it took a minute for it to register, and he lay there in the bed alone, his hands balled up in the cool white cotton sheets, listening. 

_It’s raining,_ he remembered thinking, marveling at the sound, throwing back the blanket and crossing the room to look out. All he could see was gray. Everything was gray. 

Same as today. 

_“Mike, I need to tell you something.”_

He could still hear Anna’s sweet voice in his mind. He remembered looking up from his pancakes to meet his wife’s eyes. Anna’s heart-shaped face was tired, a little puffy, as though she were still in the throes of pregnancy instead of two weeks postpartum. Her long brown hair was stringy, as though she hadn’t washed it for days, and the sparkle in her eyes had dimmed. He’d known with certainty then, before she even uttered a word.

She didn’t wait for him to put his fork down or swallow the bite he was chewing. The pancakes turned to sand in his mouth as she whispered, _“I have one.”_ He remembered how she’d held up her hand then, the long sleeve of the rose pink maternity blouse she’d put on falling past her wrist. 

The image was burned into his memory. The elegant script on her wrist, the mark he still couldn’t believe was real. He remembered accusing her of having it tattooed on in her pregnancy depression, fervently holding on to the hope that it was merely a made up way for her to try to leave their marriage and all that they had behind. 

“What?” he’d managed to say as he watched her small finger lightly trace the three letters that were looped all together in lowercase script on the translucent inner skin of her left wrist.

Behind his closed eyes he could see her sincerity in his memory. “I can’t ignore it, Mike. Someone has the matching soulmark. We’ll meet, and his wrist will glitter for me, and mine for him. I know you don’t want to believe this is happening, but it’s true. It’s everywhere. What they say is true, it glitters golden, like the fire of a thousand suns is shining from inside your body. I feel it, the pull. Wherever he is, we’re tethered together now. There’s no way around it. You’ve heard the news, you’ve even read the articles. Scientific journals, Mike!”

He remembered the sinking feeling of defeat, looking out the window in the breakfast nook, taking note of the rain running down the glass in panicked rivulets, rushing to their destination far below. “You know I don’t believe in all that, Anna.”

She’d pushed her chair away from the table in a burst of anger. “I didn’t get this tattooed, Mike. Why can’t you believe it? It’s happening all around, and it will happen to you, too! One morning you’ll wake up, and it will be there.”

Mike heard Otis’s walker bump into the kitchen cabinet, followed by the baby giggling. He opened his eyes and watched Otis wave his little hand in front of his face, babbling away while he tried to move the walker. “Are you stuck, buddy?” he asked, standing up to walk over to his son. He pulled the walker around the cabinet and Otis waved both hands at Mike, flashing him a drool covered smile. “There you go.” 

He sat back down at his computer, glancing down at his still bare wrist. 

“And what if it’s your initials, Anna?” Mike had asked, impatiently shoving his long bangs from his face, his heart feeling as though it were physically breaking into two parts as he tried to get a read on his wife’s face. “What if my mark shows up, and it’s you?”

For the first time since since she’d started the conversation, there had been a look of something like sympathy on Anna’s face. “Mike, even if it were my initials, it wouldn’t be me. I’m not your soulmate. We won’t match.”

The grayness outside was inching its way into the eleventh floor apartment. “So, what, then?” Mike had asked quietly. He was tired of the argument already. If she wanted to leave, to pursue this soulmate with his matching mark, nothing he could say was going to stop her. “You’re just going to take our baby and disappear?”

He felt the tears coming as the memory tugged at his heart. “No,” Anna had whispered, her shoulders sagging as she looked at Mike. “I’m just leaving. And the baby… the baby is yours.” 

Mike stared at his computer and blinked back the tears as he remembered holding his son for the first time, the way he carefully slid one hand under Otis’s head, and the other under his bottom, exactly the way the nurse had shown him in the hospital. He remembered how Otis had cried almost non-stop for the first two weeks of his life, and Anna had refused to even look at him. He tried not to think of the sympathetic looks his family had showered him with as he struggled to do things right after she left. 

_We’re getting better,_ Mike thought stubbornly. _I’ve managed to get us this far. Both of us. Well, not without a lot of help. But still. We’re alive._ He shoved a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. There was still work that needed to be finished before he could close out the work window and ignore his computer for the rest of the day. He had to stop thinking about Anna.

But the divorce petition was right there on his desk. All he needed to do was sign his name, and take the stack of papers to the post office. At this point, it was symbolic more than anything else. He knew Anna wasn’t coming back.

He’d watched her pack up her clothes from the end of their bed, holding the baby and the bottle while he tried to plead with her. She’d walked out without the diamond necklace he’d given her on their tenth anniversary, without a glance at Otis, without another apology. She’d walked out angry that Mike didn’t understand. She’d walked out, and Mike had stood with the baby in front of the windows as everything he thought his future would be washed away in the Los Angeles rain outside.

Mike was brought out of those memories when Otis’s walker slammed into the side of his desk. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, looking down at his son. Otis was giggling, his tiny hands reaching for Mike. He leaned over and plucked the baby out of the colorful walker, shoving it away with his foot as he nuzzled his face under Otis’s chin, hoping to keep the laughs coming. 

The tickle of his beard had Otis laughing - deep, baby belly laughs - and Mike could feel the heaviness in his heart lifting. More and more Mike was finding these little bonding moments with his son, and for a few minutes, it was easier to forget how things were. They would laugh together and play, and Mike could forget Anna until Otis’s soulmark caught his eye. It was like that every time, those tiny little letters flipping a switch in Mike’s mind. 

“O, you’re silly,” Mike teased, holding the baby’s hands and balancing him on his lap. “My silly boy.” He bounced his legs a few times and then popped a kiss to his son’s forehead. “Back in the walker, so Daddy can finish working. Then we’ll have some apples and peas, and maybe go to the park, and then get a bath. You love bathtime.” He managed to get Otis’s chubby legs back into the small holes in the seat of the walker, and Otis reached for the long necked bright orange giraffe on the tray in front of him.

Mike could hear his son’s tiny baby feet on the floor as he scooted around, and knew in a few minutes Otis would be back. He tried to get focused on his work so he could finish it before his attention was required again. There wasn’t much to do, just punch in numbers on his spreadsheet and get it submitted, but his mind kept drifting. Otis made two more circles around the room, and Mike stopped two more times, before he finally got everything completed and emailed to his boss.

He looked up from his laptop, right out the windows. It was a shade lighter than it had been earlier, but it was still gray, and Mike sighed. _So much for taking Otis out today. I’m not going out in dreary mist._ He stood up, ready to grab the baby, when he phone chimed.

Without looking, he knew it would be his brother. He wasn’t disappointed.

 **Jason:** _How are things going today? Jack is making meals right now, she wanted to know if you wanted anything special._

Mike’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the screen. He appreciated his sister-in-law, and he was happy to not have to try to cook for one, but he wondered how much longer she’d be including him in her meal prep. A slice of guilt hit his stomach as he considered what to say. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

 **Mike:** _Tell her thank you, and no, whatever she’s making is outstanding._

 **Jason:** _She’s making that potato soup you like, with the kale._

 **Mike:** _I do love that stuff. Tell her O likes peas and sweet potatoes now._

He put the phone down next to his keyboard. It would only be a matter of time before Jason would want to continue the small talk, and Mike knew he’d be asked about the soulmark website Jason told him about. It wasn’t like he was pestering, but he’d asked at least three times in the last week since he’d sent Mike the link. Mike sat back down at his laptop, ready for the text to come through.

Once again, he wasn’t disappointed. His brother was one of the most dependable, predictable people Mike had ever known. It only skimmed past his thoughts that he used to be that way, too. Dependable. Capable. In control of his life. Happy.

 **Jason:** _Sweet potatoes are the best._  
 **Jason:** _So have you checked out findyourmark.com yet?_

Mike looked between his open work email and the glass window on the other side of his desk. Jason wasn’t going to let up until he caved, and Mike knew it. 

**Mike:** _You know I’ve been working._

The response was instant. 

**Jason:** _You are full of excuses. I’m telling you, just check it out. They’ve got a page for Blanks, too._

Mike almost growled at the last sentence. He didn’t want to be a Blank. He was going to get a mark, he had to. What was all this pain for, if he ended up being able to be matched to anyone? _That would make Anna wrong. I could have been her match._ His eyes flicked to the divorce papers on the desk, and he gritted his teeth. _She didn’t want us. She left us. I should just sign them._

In a flash of determination, he grabbed the stack and flipped to the final page, scrawling his name on the line that asked for the petitioner’s signature. _Just to get the ball rolling. It’s almost been seven months. She’s not coming back. Even if I never get a mark, she’s never coming back. It’s time to accept that._

The chime of his phone caught his attention again, and all of the fire seemed to leave his body. Deep down, what he really wanted was for his wife to come home. For Anna to come be a mother to her son. Otis was really starting to have a personality now, and two weeks after starting baby food solids, he was sleeping better too. It seemed like the hard part, the sleepless hours running into days and weeks, were over. 

**Jason:** _Or you can just browse around, and get familiar with it. For when your mark shows up._

Mike typed in the website and hit return with his pinky. He took a screenshot and sent it to Jason. 

**Mike:** _Here, is this what you want to see? I’m looking._

He didn’t stop to see Jason’s excited text. The website was waiting, and Mike looked over the colorful tabs at the top of the screen, until a small screen popped up, encouraging him to make an account. 

Mike frowned at the pop up that was asking him to register for the website. There was no way he was registering now. Not while he was a Blank. _I won’t be a Blank forever. I’ll get serious when my mark shows up. Until then, I don’t want to set up a profile. Just to match up with some other Blank and go through this all over again when they get their mark. I’ll wait. I’m not going to be Blank forever. I’m not._

He clicked off the pop up advertisement so he could see the drop down menu. It was a little mind boggling. The marks hadn’t even been around a year, yet, but the website in front of him was fully functioning. There was a page for Blanks, just like Jason said, but also for every way he could think to search. Men seeking women, women seeking men, and then men seeking men. Women seeking women. Mike cocked his head to the side as the mouse hovered over women seeking men, before he decided that there was no reason to type in his initials right now. He was just going to look at what was out there, in general.

There was a menu that stated “new!” and Mike clicked there. Instantly, rows and rows of wrists popped up on his screen. It was amazing and overwhelming. He’d been so sure that everyone’s initials looked the same, small fancy script letters on the thin inner skin of the wrist. As he browsed, he saw script letters that looked like those on Anna and Otis’s wrists, but he also saw neat capitals, scrawled letters, and some that were so messy he wasn’t entirely sure what they were. 

Without thinking, one finger of his right hand reached to stroke over his left wrist as he looked at all of the different combinations. _What makes them look different? Is that just another way of knowing when you’ve met your match? Aren’t they supposed to glow, isn’t that how you know?_ Mike was absorbed in the pictures. There were so many combinations… initials on pretty wrists, chubby wrists, young and old wrists, hairy wrists. 

Mike looked up at the top of the page. There was a search bar, and he bit his lip before he decided to type in his initials, just to look.

MKS *return*

He watched while the page of new registrations filtered down to wrists with his initials. There were far fewer than there had been, and he knew if he limited it to women seeking men, there would be even less. But he couldn’t help but marvel at all the different wrists there were in the world with his initials inscribed on the skin. Light skin, dark skin, and every shade in between. One delicate looking wrist had an infinity symbol underneath it, and Mike stopped to wonder if that had been tattooed there before the soulmark turned up, or if it had been added later. _Or can that show up with the soulmark?_

_I feel it, the pull._

Mike heard Anna’s words in his memory, and he frowned at the open tab on his computer. He didn’t feel anything. None of the wrists on his screen made him feel anything other than sadness. Loneliness. The crushing feeling of being left behind. He felt his throat start to close up with the grief again, and he didn’t finish looking through the page. 

The mouse seemed to move on its own, clicking the corner of the tab and sending his computer to his photo screensaver - a picture of him with Anna, both of them smiling as he held her from behind, his hands resting on her pregnant belly. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on his hand, his elbow on the edge of the desk. _There’s no point in torturing myself when I don’t even have a mark. When it shows up, I’ll look. I know Jason means well, but I can’t look anymore. Not right now._

“Da ba ba ma uh uh!”

Otis’s babbling brought Mike out of his despair. He had to pull it together. His son needed him. The fog he’d been living in for the last six months had to lift, and it seemed as though he was going to have to force it to happen. He looked down at his son’s big brown eyes. They were locked on his face, and as they stared at each other, the playfulness in Otis’s eyes seemed to fade. Mike watched as his tiny forehead crinkled and then he started to whine.

The baby was reading his mood, and for the first time, Mike realized it. Maybe it was just that Otis was getting bigger, and he could pick up on the emotions better, but it cut something new inside Mike. He didn’t want his son to be miserable. As his baby’s eyes started to fill with tears, as his bottom lip started to tremble, Mike pulled himself together. He reached down and pulled Otis from the walker, cuddling him close to his chest. The faint smell of baby shampoo from yesterday’s bath made him smile softly. 

“It’s okay, O. Daddy’s okay, and you’re okay. Let’s get something to eat. Auntie Jack sent me some spaghetti, and you’ve got peas and apples. Let’s see if we can get your peas and apples first. Into the high chair you go!” Mike swung the baby up over his head, jiggling him a few times to make him laugh before he buckled him into the high chair. “You can watch Daddy get it all ready. I’m not as good as Uncle Jason. I need both hands.”

He stepped back over to his desk to grab his phone quickly, texting Jason one last time. 

**Mike:** _The site’s a little overwhelming. I’ll look around some more tomorrow. I need to get Otis fed._

He slid the phone in his pocket and turned to the rice cereal, ready to measure it and mix half with the fruit, and the other half with the vegetable he knew Otis was looking forward to eating. He could hear his son’s small hands slapping at the high chair tray while he babbled. Mike pulled out his measuring spoons and got to work, putting thoughts of the soulmark site out of his mind for the moment. It would still be there tomorrow - and maybe he’d have a reason for looking. Despite everything, he couldn’t shake the hope that one day, his soulmark would be there, waiting when he woke up. 

What Mike didn’t know when he’d closed the tab before dinner, was that seconds later a new wrist was uploaded. The picture was taken outside, the gray ocean in the background. The lack of color in the water made the wrist in the foreground pop off the screen in vivid color. It was a small wrist, a wrist ringed with blue and red flames, a wrist that just that very morning had gained a new tattoo of sorts. The soulmark was fresh, melting into the flames. It was three blocky capital letters… MKS. 

****  
TBC


	4. I Don't Have a Reason (yet)

Just getting the baby situated had been an adventure all on its own, and Mike cursed the inventor of collapsible baby strollers while he wrestled with it and regretted turning down Jason’s offer to show him how to use it months ago. At the time, leaving the apartment wasn’t emotionally possible, and Mike hadn’t even had the energy to think about leaving. So the stroller sat in a box in the corner of the small second bedroom that was Otis’s nursery, until today.

Mike had opened the box and pulled the stroller out, and at first glance, decided it seemed easy enough. After pinching his fingers in it and getting it set up only to have it collapse back on his hand because he didn’t lock it down, Mike was ready to throw it off the balcony. Otis hadn’t been phased by Mike’s frustration, scooting around the living room in his walker, babbling away while Mike cursed under his breath. By the time he got everything figured out, and ensured the stroller was safely locked in the open position so he didn’t somehow end up pinching his son inside of it, Mike only had fifteen minutes to make it to the coffee shop on the corner.

 _It’s just for fifteen minutes. We can do fifteen minutes. It’s not Jason’s fault there was traffic and Otis is coming with me. We’ll be fine. It wasn’t the plan, but nothing goes according to plan these days._

He buckled Otis in carefully, testing the straps twice, before slinging the diaper bag across the handle and picking up his leather portfolio. Even though he had a work from home job, it only paid the bills, and Mike’s dream was to be a freelance graphic artist. He’d done some work here and there, but the steady paycheck from his data entry job won out over his creative side years ago. Every once in a while his own website would turn up in a local someone’s search, and he’d get a call to design a brochure, or advertisement, or company logo. It cost him money to keep his website maintained and updated, but that little dream was the only thing he still had these days that was his. 

The Los Angeles sunshine felt good on his face, Mike had to admit, as he pushed Otis quickly to the _Toasted Bean_ coffee shop. He could hear Otis’s little babbles as they passed by other people, and saw a few even smile down at his son and wave back. It had been a long time since he felt optimistic, and Mike couldn’t even put a name to that feeling when a young lady held the door open for him to push the stroller through. The idea to treat himself with a vanilla latte came next, and Mike maneuvered the stroller up to the counter to place his order. 

Looking around he could see there were empty tables in the early afternoon, and Mike was relieved. He’d been worried about there being space to show his portfolio to his potential client. Now it was only a matter of choosing his spot and getting Otis situated before she showed up. _See? You can do this,_ he told himself. _Going out with the baby isn’t that big of a deal._ His success made him briefly entertain the thought that maybe soon, he wouldn’t need so much of Jason’s help. 

“Order for Mike!”

Mike looked down the long wooden counter, where his drink was being pushed to the edge already. Service was fast, and that was another point in the column of optimism for Mike’s day. He loved efficiency. He pushed Otis forward and picked up his drink before turning the stroller toward the one table in the corner he thought looked good for his meeting.

But he didn’t make it far. The front wheel of the stroller caught a chair that was jutting out into the aisle, and the bump caused Mike to lose his grip on both the stroller and the coffee cup. In his attempt to keep the coffee from spilling onto the baby, he somehow managed to spill it everywhere else. In a matter of seconds, there was vanilla latte all over him, the diaper bag, and his portfolio. 

Mike could feel the sympathetic looks from the patrons around him as his cheeks heated up. All of the optimism he’d been feeling was gone immediately as he wished the floor would open up, swallow him down and just put him out of his misery. It would happen that on the day he was meeting someone, with the potential of a new freelance job, that everything would go wrong minutes before his meeting was to begin. 

The baby was blissfully unaware that his father was standing in a coffee shop, covered head to toe in the vanilla latte he was trying to treat himself with. The diaper bag Jason had put together, where all the extra diapers, clothes, bottles and pacifiers lived, was soaked. But by far the worst part was Mike’s portfolio. His designs were laying in a puddle of vanilla scented steamed milk and espresso. With a sigh, he knelt down to pick up the ruined portfolio and dry off some of the drawings. One sweet older lady knelt next to him and handed him a handful of napkins. 

“You’re doing a great job, dad. Don’t let it get you down. Accidents happen.”

Mike looked up from under his longer bangs to meet her kind blue eyes and forced a smile. “Thanks,”� he whispered, patting down his items with the napkins. He could feel the hot sting of frustrated, embarrassed tears behind his eyes and tried to keep his composure. 

_It was all easier when Anna was here. Before these stupid fucking soulmarks. If she hadn’t left us, Otis would be home with her while I took this meeting._ Mike instantly felt ashamed of himself for feeling resentment toward his son. Otis hadn’t asked for his mother to leave, and Mike had already cheated him out of a joyful father the first six months of his life. He looked down reflexively, where the empty skin of his inner wrist was covered with a thick black leather band. He hated not having the mark. He hated how people looked at him the few times he’d managed to leave the apartment, and had started covering it up as a way to avoid stares. He hated the way the whole world had changed when the marks started to appear. _We were happy. Tired, but Otis was just a baby. It would have gotten better. And she just left. All because of that mark._

Mike took a deep breath and tried to focus. Hating the soulmarks and everything that came with them wouldn’t do him any good right now. He pushed the stroller forward to get it out of the aisle, and picked up his drawings. They went onto the table closest to him, and he started to pat them dry about the time a _Toasted Bean_ employee in a coffee bean colored apron came over with a mop and a wet floor sign.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, trying to get out of her way so she could clean up the floor. It was another few minutes before the attention of everyone in the shop seemed to finally be somewhere else, and Mike sighed. Every one of his sketches had coffee stains on it, some larger than others. He would have to tell his potential client what happened, and that seemed to be even more embarrassing than the actual event. He couldn’t even manage his son in a half empty coffee shop. He didn’t think his ineptitude would be a hot selling point for his graphic design. 

Mike took a handful of wet napkins to the trash can and grabbed a few more. He could smell the vanilla latte all over him, and he knew the milk would start to sour quickly. _That’s what I get for trying to do a little something to feel normal. I should have just gotten water. Or better yet, stayed home. I’ve been trying to get this gig off the ground for ten years. Maybe it’s time to just give it up._

It was a bitter pill to swallow, though he knew there was truth to it. Los Angeles was a huge city with millions of people. Standing out in the graphic design business when the designs weren’t digital was passe these days. People wanted slick, computer generated designs, and Mike still preferred the feel of ink and graphite grabbing the paper. _Maybe it’s time to just let my designs be a hobby. It’s never going to take care of us, not the way I wish it would._ Mike’s shoulder slumped as he looked over at Otis, who had somehow managed to fall asleep in the stroller.

 _At least I have a job. It could be worse. We could be homeless, sleeping in mom and dad’s guest room._ Mike grimaced as he thought about what it would be like to live with his parents again full time. They were wonderful parents - a bit overbearing - and Mike knew he wouldn’t be able to stand it for very long.

 _No. I’ll have to just keep on with the data entry. It’s not a bad job. It’s just boring. It’s not what I thought I’d be doing at this age. I thought a lot of things would be different by now, though._

“Here.”

Mike looked up from his son in the stroller as a man he didn’t know set down a new coffee cup in front of him. He frowned and looked around before he glanced back up at the stanger. It was a quick assessment to see that he was not the woman Mike was supposed to be meeting, but for some reason Mike couldn’t help but check him out anyway. The long-sleeved black and white striped shirt under the white t-shirt with some splashy black graphic design caught Mike’s eyes. It looked edgy and artistic, and like something Mike would have drawn freehand. 

The man had an honest face - big brown eyes that seemed to look inside of Mike’s thoughts - and even though Mike could _feel_ that this stranger was trustworthy, he opened his mouth to refuse the coffee. It was obviously for someone else. Mike was meeting a woman to go over his designs, and the man in front of him was obviously not a woman. But before Mike could say a word, he was smoothly interrupted.

“I saw what happened with your coffee, and all your stuff,” the man said, his voice surprisingly shy. “I thought you might could use a replacement. The, the barista knew what you ordered. It’s a vanilla latte,” he insisted, pushing it across the table toward Mike. 

“Thank you?” The nicety came out as more of a question than a statement, and Mike felt his cheeks flush again. “I’m sorry, I’m just… I’m meeting someone, and first impressions are so important. And now I have to meet her with vanilla latte all over me.” Mike looked down at the coffee staining his shirt and shook his head.

The man nodded knowingly. Sympathetically. “Soulmark? Yeah, that sucks.”

“No, not my soulmark,” Mike retorted irritably. It was all anyone in the world seemed to care about these days, except for him. He bit his lip as soon as he saw the wounded look in the man’s eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so bitter. I just don’t care much about soulmarks.” He felt the man staring at his leather cuff like he was trying to see through it, but Mike refused to slide it out of the way. _It’s not like I can see his, either, with those long sleeves on._

“Sure, it’s a touchy subject when you don’t have one.” 

Mike froze. Nobody he’d met since he’d started wearing the cuff had been bold enough to assert that he didn’t have a mark, and he had no idea how this man knew that without asking. But once again, before he could say anything, he was interrupted.

“Well, I hope the coffee makes your day better. Good luck with your meeting.” Then the man simply turned around and walked back to the other side of the coffee shop, where he sat down in an empty seat across from a man with giant curly hair.

Mike’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the back of the man’s shaved head. He wasn’t accustomed to anyone going out of their way to benefit him, other than Jason. _And I wasn’t very nice._ His shoulders slumped again as he looked down at Otis. He was still content in the stroller, and Mike wasn’t sure how much longer that would last. He was lucky none of the hot coffee spilled on the baby. 

Curiosity pulled Mike’s eyes over to the man with the shaved head again. He looked like he was there with his friend, just hanging out and chatting over a cup of coffee, and Mike felt loneliness descend over him quickly. All of his friends had stopped trying to connect with him already, and Mike knew it was for the same reason the man with the new coffee had walked away. _I’ve got to stop acting like a bitter old man. I’m thirty-one, not eighty. At this rate I’ll never find anyone. Soulmark or not._ He was about ready to push Otis’s stroller over to the man’s table so he could apologize for being an ass, and thank him genuinely for the coffee. 

“Excuse me, are you Mike Shinoda?” 

Immediately Mike’s attention snapped from the man with the shaved head to the woman standing in front of him. “Yes, I am,” he stated, standing up to shake her hand. “I apologize for the mess,” he added, waving his hand over the table. “The stoller and my coffee cup decided to get into a fight with each other. The stroller won.”

He was pleased when the woman smiled and even giggled before she sat down. There was a few minutes of small talk before she asked to see the mock-ups he’d come up with, and Mike scooted a few still damp sketches over for her to examine. While she did, his attention kept drifting over to the table for two where his anonymous coffee bestower sat, deep in conversation with the curly headed man. 

Without really noticing he was doing it, Mike had already catalogued the stranger’s ears, and the see-through gauges in them. He’d already decided they were about the same height, though he outweighed the other man by more than just a few pounds. He really wanted to see the front of the man’s shirt again, and maybe toss in a compliment and earn an invitation to enjoy his coffee with them. For whatever reason, he was drawn to this stranger, and Mike had to think it was simply because of the kindness he’d been shown. Suddenly he really wanted a friend, someone other than his brother to talk to, and this man had been thoughtful enough to replace his coffee. He seemed a good candidate for conversation, at least. 

Though Mike’s attention was somewhat divided, he did manage to win over the young woman who had sought out his services. He didn’t stop to think if she had just been sympathetic to his plight as a struggling father who spilled coffee all over his portfolio as he pulled out a contract for her to sign. While she looked over the terms and agreed to his fee structure, Mike looked back over at the table that had been distracting him from his business. 

To his dismay, the pair was leaving the coffee shop. _So much for that,_ Mike decided dejectedly, watching as the object of his attention tossed his cup into the trash can and headed out the door. He was about to put his full attention on his client, when the man he’d been watching turned suddenly. They made eye contact, and Mike knew he’d been caught staring. He felt his cheeks flush as the stranger smiled, then lifted his hand in a goodbye wave. By the time Mike managed to smile back, the man was gone.

****

It had been a relief to be back in the safety of his apartment. Mike’s nerves were frazzled; the combination of the coffee mishap and meeting the stranger who had waved goodbye at the shop had him a little on edge. By the time dinner and bathtime were over for Otis, and Mike had his own shower, he was finally feeling calmer and even got a little work started on the freelance project he’d picked up that afternoon.

Before bed, he made himself a cup of tea, adding just a touch of agave for sweetness, and sat down at the couch, pulling his afghan over his legs and tucking it around his waist. The sketches were carefully put away for the evening, and now he opened his laptop to go through his nightly routine of clicking on various websites and checking out the latest research on the soulmarks. It was a habit he just wasn’t ready to break. Not until he had answers about whether or not his own fate was already determined. 

Tonight he had a new article waiting for him at his favorite site, a scientific journal in which he’d ended up subscribing back when the marks first appeared. Mike clicked on it with interest, and skimmed over it, his eyes landing immediately on the researcher’s thoughts about Blanks. 

_Blanks very well may be able to will their mark into existence after they meet someone that fits their idea of a soulmate. That is to say, they’re in a holding pattern until their heart makes a connection. They are in control of that selection, versus being led to the selection. It is an interesting take on what we are learning about Soulmarks. For most humans the mark and match is part of a pre-destined outcome. But Blanks may be able to shape the outcome of their match, rather than have fate determine their match for them._

Mike’s eyebrows lifted as he read the paragraph a few times. It was fundamentally different from the last research he’d read, the information Jason had sent to him that speculated Blanks could match with anyone. Matching with anyone meant that a Blank had no true soulmate, but being able to change the outcome of their destined match - that was something Mike could finally be excited about. Something he desperately wanted to be true.

He read further greedily, soaking in the two case studies of Blanks who had stayed that way until they made a conscious decision to commit to someone. In both cases, the person who became their soulmark already had the soulmark of the Blank that chose them. One joked it was like dating used to be before The Turn. 

_”It’s like having the opportunity to control your life on your own terms, again, the way it used to be before these marks showed up and changed everything. I think being a Blank for so long was a blessing, at least it was for me. I met so many interesting people, but when I met her, I knew. Now I love having my soulmate’s mark on my wrist. It’s a permanent bond.”_

Mike could feel his heart pounding. _That sounds like me, like something I would say! These marks are stupid, but what if me not having one means I get to choose? I want to choose. I don’t want someone to be chosen for me._

He looked up from the computer and around the living room. It was obvious he wasn’t going to meet anyone sitting in his apartment. A new idea was in his head instantly. _I need to get out more. Get in situations to meet people. Like today. I met that guy in the coffee shop._

_That_ thought stopped Mike and cocked his head to the side. He’d talked to several people in the coffee shop, not just the man with the interesting shirt and captivating eyes. _Well, not him, obviously. But I could pick someone wonderful for Otis. And for me, but especially Otis. He deserves to have a mother. Maybe a coffee shop is a good place to start. Otis and I could go back tomorrow and sit outside in the sun. We’ll people watch, the two of us. Women love babies._

For the first time in a long while, Mike was excited. He skimmed the remainder of the study and then downloaded it before sending it to Jason in a text message.

 **Mike:** _Check this out. It’s a new study. It might not be so bad to be a blank now, after all._

He reached for his tea cup and sipped the lukewarm liquid. It didn’t even phase him that it was no longer hot as he read the part of the article about Blanks again and again. The flame of hope he’d been tending for months was starting to feel more like a fire in his belly. Mike could feel a sense of purpose, and a strong desire to go back to the coffee shop. He heard the chime on his phone and looked down to see a quick message from Jason.

 **Jason:** _Wow, you think this is legit? How cool would that be?_

Mike grinned at his phone. _Really fucking cool,_ he typed back before mentioning his plans for the next day. Jason’s approval was quick, and Mike was even more excited.

 **Mike:** _You watch, I won’t even need your website._

He tossed the phone onto the couch cushion and got up to rinse out his cup. _I don’t need a site. I get to choose. That’s more romantic than just ending up with your match. Being stuck with someone. I’ll get to tell her, I chose you._

Mike closed his eyes and tried to envision what it would be like. Excitement was painted blue and red behind his eyelids, and even though Mike had no idea what that symbolized, he was thrilled to think in color again instead of a never-ending trail of gray. _Tomorrow is the start of something new. I feel it._

****  
TBC


	5. You Don't Have The Time (or do you?)

It had been a week since Mike had spilled coffee all over himself in the _Toasted Bean_ \- since he’d read the new research about Blanks - and things were starting to change around his small apartment. Waking up in the mornings no longer came with a sense of dread, and even Jason had commented that Mike seemed to be in a better mood when he came by to drop off more of his wife’s cooking. 

Those mornings passed in the same haze of formula bottles, baby food, and Otis, but by lunch, Mike was ready to go out into the world. He wasn’t quite sure what he thought would happen every afternoon when he got Otis’s little bag ready to go with fresh diapers and a new bottle, but he was getting faster at setting up the stroller and getting the baby situated. They would ride the elevator down, and then Mike would push the stroller out the door into the Los Angeles sunshine. In the past week, the sun had seemed brighter, the sky a little bluer, and Mike’s heart a little lighter. He’d chatted with a few people here and there as he and Otis sat outside at the _Toasted Bean_ and enjoyed the outdoors together, but they were all in passing. 

He hadn’t seen the mysterious man from the week before to thank him for turning his day around. Nobody had sparked his curiosity the way the benevolent stranger had a week ago when he presented Mike with a replacement vanilla latte and a smile.

 _There was something about him,_ Mike decided as he stood at the counter, placing his order. It was busy, but not too crowded, and Mike wondered if he’d ever see the man again, or if their chance encounter had been a one time event. Either way, the combination of his kindness and the article Mike read made him venture into the world of the living again, and Mike wanted to thank that man for giving him new life. There were a lot of things he could worry about at the moment, work being at the top of the list. But work could wait, where meeting people couldn’t. He was ready to meet someone, to _will_ his mark into existence, and this was the best time of the day to people watch and see who crossed his path. It hadn’t occurred to him yet that he could try a different location, with different people. For some reason he couldn’t explain, he kept going back to the _Toasted Bean_. He wanted to see that same man again. 

Today Mike chose a different table. This one was in the corner, with an umbrella that shaded the area. He’d managed a latte _and_ a snack this time, an oversized pumpkin muffin, which was now sitting on the table waiting as he got a packet of cheerios out to spread on the tray of Otis’ stroller. The baby didn’t know what to do with them, and mostly just drooled on them and spread them around, squashing the soggy bits between his fingers. It kept him occupied while Mike enjoyed his coffee, and then he would lift Otis from the stroller and play with him until he decided to go home.

“How about some cheerios?” Mike said to Otis, opening the bag and pouring them onto the tray. “Cheerios are tasty,” he added, picking one up and popping it in his mouth while Otis watched.

“Ba?” Otis said, picking one cheerio up carefully with his thumb and pointer finger, and bringing it to his mouth while he kept his eyes on Mike. His small eyebrows furrowed as the texture of the cheerio hit his tongue, and he moved it around in his mouth.

“Yum,” Mike agreed, nodding his head.

“He’s so cute,” Mike heard, and he looked up in time to see a young blonde woman with her coffee sitting nearby. “How old is he?”

“Almost seven months,” Mike answered with a smile. They chatted back and forth for a minute until the person she was meeting arrived, and Mike tried to hide his surprise when the blonde woman reached out for the brunette and popped a kiss to her lips. He watched them for a moment before he averted his eyes and lapsed into silence, sipping at his coffee while Otis played with the cereal and he mused on the two women’s relationship.

_Were they together before the turn? Maybe they met afterward. Did they know each other as friends, or did they meet on that site? I wonder if they have marks. Maybe they were together before and neither of them have marks yet. Probably not, though. There’s not a lot of people like me. Most everyone has marks by now._

After a few minutes lost in thought, Mike picked the wrapper off of his muffin. It smelled delicious, and he picked bites off of it with his long fingers, popping the fluffy pumpkin goodness into his mouth between bits of one-sided conversation that was entertaining Otis. All of his social interaction for the day was likely over with the blonde woman, and that was fine. He’d carried a conversation, even if it had gone nowhere, and that was better than being hidden away in his apartment with only his son and his sad memories. 

He was on his last bite of muffin when the sound of a confident “hi” jostled Mike from his thoughts, and he looked up to see the man from last week standing in front of him. He was in a long-sleeved white button down, tucked smartly into his gray dress pants, a black belt around his slim hips. For a moment Mike was stunned, his tongue unable to work as the man held out a coffee cup and Mike’s hand reached for it, without his conscious thought to do so. 

“I know you’ve already had one,” the man said, nodding his head toward the empty mug on Mike’s table. “But this one is to go. Not that I want you to leave right away!” The man shook his head and tried to regroup. “What I’m saying is, I got you a refill, and you can take it with you when you leave, if you aren’t finished.”

“Thanks,” Mike managed to say, sitting the cup down and shifting Otis from one side of his lap to the other. He felt the baby go still as he sized up the stranger across the table, who was just standing there, watching. “Would you like to sit down?” he asked, gesturing at the empty chair. His heart was beating a little faster, a little anxiously. 

“Sure. I’m Chester, by the way,” the man said, pulling out the chair and sitting down. The shade from the umbrella fell over him, and he pushed his aviator style sunglasses up onto his head. He sipped at his coffee, waiting for Mike to reciprocate. 

It took Mike a moment before he remembered to say, “I’m Mike. And this is Otis.” He looked down at the baby for a second, collecting his thoughts. “Thanks for the refill. And for the other day. You kinda saved the day.”

Chester smiled, and Mike was caught off guard by the total joy in his companion’s eyes. They were dark brown, but sparkled with light. “You’re welcome. It looked like it was a rough day. I know what that’s like. I’m glad it didn’t come across creepy. Brad told me it was creepy.” He shrugged and sipped his coffee again.

“Brad?”

“Oh, yeah, that guy I was with. He’s so uptight.” Chester flipped a hand through the air. “It’s amazing he has any friends at all, he never talks to new people. Me, I love people. I can talk to anyone.”

Mike nodded, his eyes coasting over Chester’s button-down shirt to his wrist out of habit. Despite his general disdain for the soulmarks, he was like everyone else- always searching to see if the person he was talking to had met their soulmate or not. Part of Mike really hoped Chester hadn’t, just so he would have a friend who could empathize with his situation. “Sounds like I’m more like your friend Brad,” he decided to say when he couldn’t get a view of Chester’s wrists. “I’m not great at meeting people, either.”

Chester pointed his coffee cup at Mike. “But you met someone that day, didn’t you? The day your coffee exploded?”

Mike couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it did kinda explode. I was just glad it didn’t burn Otis. I already feel like a terrible parent.” He bit his lip immediately at his negative slip, and tried to recover. “That was different, anyway, it was a client. It’s easier to talk to people when it’s about work.”

“What kind of work do you do, Mike?” Chester sat back, crossing one ankle over his knee and looking at Mike curiously. He liked the long hair, and the dark eyes of the man across from him. It was too bad he was holding a baby, making it obvious that their preferences didn’t swing the same way. Mike was undeniably attractive, though, and Chester couldn’t deny he was interested in getting to know this man. There was a feeling about him that Chester couldn’t shake.

Otis wiggled in Mike’s arms, and he shifted him over to the other knee again. “Right now I work from home. Data entry,” he said with a quick eye roll. “I have a graphic design business on the side, but it’s not really taken off yet. The data entry pays the bills, but it’s boring as fuck.” Mike bounced his legs up and down as he held onto the baby.

Chester’s attention drifted from Mike’s face down to his son. It was much more obvious in the baby’s face that there was some Asian descent happening, and that was intriguing. “Graphic design. Sounds cool. You’re an artist, then?”

“Depends on your definition of artist,” Mike answered self-deprecatingly. “I went to school for business but I really wanted to be a designer. My wife didn’t think it was a lucrative career option. Which I guess, she was right.”

“Only if you let her be right,” Chester said, pointing his finger at Mike. He wanted to say more, that he’d never let some woman curtail his dreams, but he held his tongue.

Mike wasn’t quite sure what to say to Chester’s statement. He didn’t think it was right to talk negatively about Anna within Otis’s earshot, even if he was too young to understand any bitter words toward his mother. He decided to flip the question around on Chester rather than respond to what had been said. “What about you?”

“Real estate.” Chester tugged at his sleeve, making sure to keep his wrists covered. He never knew how new people would react to his tattoos, and it had become a habit in his line of work to keep them covered. “Mostly helping people buy and sell, but I do a little investing on the side, too. House flipping? You’ve heard of it?”

“Sure,” Mike said, though he only had a vague idea what they were talking about. Investing and house flipping implied that Chester was good at his job, though. Knowing someone in real estate could prove to be valuable later on. “Maybe you can get me out of the apartment I’m in.” The words came out of his mouth before he even realized he was saying them. 

Chester’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Sure, tell me what you and the wife are looking for, I bet you I can find exactly what you want. Be as specific as you want, I love the challenge.”

It was the second casual mention of Mike’s wife, and he knew that he should go ahead and set the record straight. Mike shifted a little in his seat. “Just me,” he corrected, looking down at the back of Otis’s head. “And O. It’s just the two of us. My wife took off when this whole soulmark thing hit.” He waited, his focus not on Chester, but on his son. 

“Ah, that’s why you were so bitter about it the day we met.” Chester sipped his coffee and saw the conflicting emotions cross Mike’s face. It had to be hard to have someone leave because of the marks. Luckily for Chester, he’d been unattached at the turn. He’d waited patiently for his mark, but it looked like the idea of soulmarks made Mike miserable. 

_The day we met._ It echoed in Mike’s head and he finally nodded. “Yeah, she took off to find her mark, leaving Otis with me. It’s been a train wreck the last few months,” he confessed quietly, and then wondered why. He didn’t even know this guy. 

“The whole soulmark thing is crazy,” Chester agreed, his eyes landing on Mike’s leather cuff again. He’d noticed it when they met, and the very fact that MIke’s wrist was covered led him to believe Mike’s mark hadn’t shown up yet. “You don’t have one, yet?” he asked, pointing at Mike’s wrist.

It was the same thing Chester had said when they first met, and Mike had to wonder if covering it was doing him any favors, or if everyone he met knew what he was trying to hide. “No, and I’m not sure I will,” Mike admitted. “I have a hard time believing in all of it. What about you?”

Chester paused only for a moment before something prompted him to lie smoothly, “I haven’t gotten mine yet, either.” Their eyes met and held for a moment before Chester said, “but I believe in it. I guess I’m just a romantic at heart. I love the idea of it. I mean, I probably wouldn’t in your situation. But it takes all the guesswork out of meeting people, you know? When you find them, you just know.”

“Yeah,” Mike said offhandedly as his phone jingled. He dug it out of his pocket and looked at the number. It wasn’t one he recognized, and he looked over at Chester. “Do you mind? I like to answer, in case it’s freelance work.” 

“Go right ahead,” Chester said, ready to sip on his coffee some more in silence. Until he heard Mike answer the phone.

_Mike Shinoda._

Chester looked over sharply, his lips parting in surprise. He hadn’t given a moment’s thought to what Mike’s initials were when he sat down to befriend the other man. The baby alone was enough for Mike to stay off Chester’s soulmark radar, but suddenly he was dying to know Mike’s middle name. He couldn’t help but wonder if the reason he’d been drawn to the man across from him was because his own fresh soulmark had something to do with it- baby or no baby.

He watched Mike struggle to juggle the baby and his phone while trying to dig out a scrap of paper from the diaper bag to write on. “Here, I’ll take him,” Chester whispered, holding his hands out. He saw the hesitation on Mike’s face, but only for a moment before Otis was passed over into his arms. 

Otis knew someone other than Mike was holding him, and he twisted around in Chester’s lap to look up at the stranger. It was only a few seconds of Otis sizing Chester up before the baby leaned his head against his chest and closed his eyes. Chester wrapped his arm around Otis a little more snugly and smiled. When he looked back over at Mike, he was putting down his phone as he stared at his son.

“Wow,” he said, stuffing the note he’d just made back into the diaper bag. “I can’t believe he’s not fussing. He hardly lets anyone hold him, except my brother and my mom.” Mike’s eyes took in the relaxed way Otis was cuddled up against Chester in amazement. “He’s got some separation issues, I think. But he looks totally fine right now.” The picture in front of him had Mike wondering if Otis really had separation anxiety, or if that was all in Mike’s head. Or worse, a product of him not being around enough people. Thoughts of the past six months, of the silence and heaviness in the apartment hit Mike suddenly, and he realized he needed to get the baby out of the house even more than he’d been thinking before.

“What can I say.” Chester grinned over at Mike. “Babies are a good judge of character.” The two adults shared a smile, and Chester decided right then it was now or never, as far as Mike was concerned. “Brad would say this is creepy, but all I can say is, I’m Otis approved.” Chester’s grin showed all his teeth again, and just the tip of his tongue before he went on, “I’ve got a group of friends, we play poker on Friday nights. You interested? Seems like you could use a night out.”

It had been a long time since Mike had felt like saying yes to an invitation, but he had a strange urge to say yes to this one. “I’ll have to see if my brother or my parents can baby sit,” he said uncertainly, thinking through the logistics. It occurred to him suddenly that he hadn’t spent a single night away from his son since he’d been born.

“Oh, no worries, you can bring Otis along,” Chester said immediately, glancing down at the baby. “Brad and Joe have kids, it’s not a big deal. Besides, at this age, won’t he mostly sleep?” He leaned down, close to Otis’s ear like he was going to tell him a secret. “You wouldn’t interrupt your Daddy having a night out, would you?”

Mike smiled unconsciously as Otis’s small hand reached up to pat at Chester’s cheek. “Well, okay. It would probably be easier. We haven’t been apart much. It’s just been me and him, most of the time…” Mike’s voice faded off as another brief thought of Anna skidded over his mind. He shook it away and focused. It would be good to get out of the house. It would be good to make friends. It would be good for his mental health, and good for Otis. He took a deep breath. “So where is this poker game?”

Chester captured Otis’s hand and nuzzled his face to the baby’s head before handing him back to Mike. “This week we’re at Bourdie’s. Rob’s,” he corrected when he saw the look of confusion cross Mike’s face. “So how about I come pick you guys up? Then it won’t be so awkward, going to someone’s house you haven’t met. You’ll be my guest, you and Otis,” Chester corrected, giving the baby another toothy smile. “I’ll tell the guys, and you’ll be our sixth. I love having an even number at the table,” he gushed. “Ever since Joe started hanging out with us it’s been five, and odd numbers are just not the same.” 

Mike’s head was spinning. There were a lot of names to keep up with all of a sudden, when he’d been hiding from the world for months. “Okay, sure. Here.” He dug in his pocket for his wallet, pulling out one of his graphic design cards and flipping it across the table at Chester, along with a pen. “Write my address on the back. My cell is on the front.” 

Chester looked down at the card. _Michael K. Shinoda._ His heart skipped a beat but he held onto his calm voice. “Ok, Michael K. Shinoda, hit me.”

Mike rattled off his address before he could worry too much about giving it to a total stranger. Talking with Chester felt natural, and he wasn’t going to worry about why. He watched Chester scribble down his address with his left hand, then hand back the pen. “It’s Kenji,” he offered, pointing at the card.

“Kenji?”

“My middle name. You said “K” and I filled in Kenji. It’s Japanese. My grandfather’s name.” Mike lifted Otis up to put him back into the stroller. “And Otis’s middle name is Akio. My brother’s middle name, which was also my uncle’s.” He paused as he slid Otis into the seat and went to buckle him in. “I’ve been talking way too much,” he decided, looking over at Chester. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually a conversation hog.” 

Chester couldn't help but laugh. “I’m the king conversation hog,” he declared, tipping his coffee back to finish it off. “It’s good for me to listen for a change.” He watched as Mike clipped the belt together in the stroller and tested the straps. “Japanese, huh? That’s so cool. I’m as uninteresting as they come. No sexy Japanese middle names.” 

Mike chuckled self-consciously. He’d never heard his middle name called sexy before. “If you say so,” he mumbled, looking over his shoulder at Chester. The light was behind the other man, and shining through the gauges in his ears. Mike caught his breath. He happened to find that intriguing. Sexy, even. “So, Chester, you know my whole name and my address. Seems like you need to cough up some info to keep things even, you know? I can’t just be letting some stranger hold my baby.” 

As soon as he’d issued the challenge, Chester was flipping open his wallet and tossing a business card his way. Mike leaned over and picked it up. _CCB Realty._ He laughed again. “It rhymes. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” 

“Sure did.” Chester pointed at the card. “Chester Bennington is a mouthful, you know? I was way ahead of the initial fad, too,” he declared with a saucy wink. “My number’s on the card. I’ll text you about Friday night,” he added as Mike slid the card into his back pocket.

Mike nodded. “I’m sorry to have to run, but it’s naptime. For the baby, not for me. It’s work time for me.” He ordered himself to stop talking, and threw Chester a smile instead. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

“I’ll see you then, Michael Kenji Shinoda.” 

Chester watched Mike shyly run a hand through his hair and nod before pushing the stroller through the maze of tables in the outdoor dining space. He was surprised when Mike looked back and waved before heading down the sidewalk, out of sight. Chester gave it a few minutes, making sure Mike was on his way home, before he dug out his cell phone and punched in Brad’s number. He didn’t even let his friend say hello before he stated, “you’ll never believe who’s coming to poker Friday night.”

****  
TBC


End file.
